Hey Loser
by Ray by Another Name
Summary: Stiles is now living a sitcom - a bad Disney one. Or was that ABC Family? Whatever! Either way, he is now officially Lydia's stepbrother and far too close to the Unholy Alliance of Mean Girls. Why is Derek Hale in living room? Why is Derek Hale so attractive? More importantly, why is Lydia smirking! That is far too dangerous of a reality for Stiles to comprehend in this moment.


Stiles is now living a sitcom - a bad Disney one. Or was that ABC Family? Whatever! Either way, he is now officially Lydia's stepbrother and far too close to the Unholy Alliance of Mean Girls. Why is Derek Hale in living room? Why is Derek Hale so attractive? More importantly, why is Lydia smirking?! That is far too dangerous of a reality for Stiles to comprehend in this moment.

AU - No Powers, AU - High School. Derek is aged down in this + the Hales are all alive. Derek/Stiles focused. Rated T. Humor/Drama.

This was written from a prompt for the Sterek Spring Break Exchange over on Ao3!

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**Hey Loser**

Stiles was living in a sitcom. He didn't know how it had happened. WHY it had happened. But he could pinpoint the exact when.

It was about, oh, two years ago when his father had responded to a 9-1-1 call from Natalie Martin. For a flat tire.

Granted she did get said flat at the creepiest part of the road that ran along the reserve. But still. 9-1-1? For a flat tire? That was such a cliché! And a stereotype! Stiles objected to that…that…lameness!

This was not a cheesy romance novel! This was his life! And now, now he was moving in with his life-long crush. As her step-brother. If his life was going to be changed horrifically, he'd like it to have a bit more creative flair. This…this was just annoying.

Why couldn't Melissa have been the one that got the flat tire?! He was totally down to play Drake and Josh with Scott. That would've been fun! But no… no. He was stuck playing Life with Derek, with Lydia. Without all the fun sexual tension!

Because Lydia? Way hotter from a distance. A distance that you couldn't hear her from. Or have to watch The Notebook from. Seriously, he officially felt bad for Jackson. And sharing a bathroom? Not a thing he enjoyed. Especially with a teenager girl's makeup.

Powder? It got everywhere. Everywhere!

Stiles was mentally scarred. He needed therapy and everything.

Seriously. What was his life? Who did he kill in a previous life to make this happen? Was it the Dahlia Lama? The Pope? A president?

Oh! He hoped it was the president of somewhere cool - like Venezuela or Brazil. Oh…maybe Afghanistan, that would've made him like a CIA dude or something. Or was he too old to have done that in a previous life?

"Hey! Loser!"

Stiles looked sideways to his new bedroom door (reason #3844 that he hated his life right now) to find his sweet new stepsister standing there with her arms crossed.

"I have friends coming over," Lydia eyed his room with disdain, "Try not to embarrass yourself." She grinned, "Or, more importantly, me."

There was a hair flip and a hip twist. Stiles gagged. He rolled over on his bed and reached for his phone on the nightstand. Lydia, plus her gaggle of girlfriends? No, thank you!

"Please tell me you have something to get me out of here?" Stiles didn't wait for Scott to speak, "A distraction, an annoyance, anything that does not involve me staying in this house?"

If Lydia's gaggle was coming over then Stiles was going out. Preferably to Scott's, but he'd take Amityville at this point.

Scott chuckled and there was a thud on the other line, "There's a Buffy marathon on?"

"Oh, thank you lord," Stiles pushed himself out of bed and clamored for his shoes. The doorbell rang. "Shit."

"What?" Scott's voice pitched as Stiles whined.

"Lydia's got friends coming over," Stiles grumbled as he pulled on his sneakers. A few near face plants and a caught lamp later they were on.

Scott harrumphed. "Window?"

"I wish," Stiles glanced out his second story window. It opened. On to a straight drop. With no well-placed trees. The modern aesthetics of rich people houses were not conducive to the lifestyle to which Stiles had become acquainted.

Stiles resigned himself to walking downstairs to the door. As if mocking him, a loud giggle traveled up from the living room.

"Remind me again why I ever liked Lydia Martin?"

"Because she's smart and pretty," Scott supplied, voice dripping with sarcasm. He wasn't saying 'I told you so' this time.

Stiles snorted, "And the devil incarnate!"

"Dude!" Scott protested, "Anti-Christ." Stiles smiled.

He waved his hands out as he gathered his laptop and a few books into his backpack, "Right, sorry, forgot about Cora for a second there."

"Sounds great," Scott teased, "If you want to be sacrificed!" That was probably a myth. Or a rumor. But given the circumstances, Stiles wasn't risking it.

"Well, on the upside I wouldn't have to live here anymore," Stiles mused aloud as he closed his bedroom door behind him. Scott chuckled, "See ya in 20."

"I'll make popcorn."

Scott was awesome.

Another giggle carried up the stairs as Stiles slunk closer. He kept to the shadows, lurking. If he were lucky they'd be in the kitchen. The whole open-concept thing would make it challenging, but there was a bulb out in the entryway. He could make it work if they were in the kitchen!

And, because when had Stiles ever been lucky, they were gathered around the couch. Argent and the rest all sat around Lydia like hand maidens around a queen. There was even a beefy knight.

Why was there a beefy knight?

Stiles paused by the coat closet.

Beefy knight was tall, dark, with a very tight shirt. Handsome was a word. Not one Stiles would use out loud, but, a word.

"What's with the beef cake?" Stiles really needed to work on his filter. They hadn't noticed him and he'd just drawn every eye. His finger pointed at the beefy knight.

Lydia growled. Actually growled.

"In my defense," Stiles held up his hands, "He looks older than you. I'm just making sure some creepy cradle robber isn't taking advantage of my sweet sister."

Beefy chuckled, wide grin splitting his whole head in half. And, because apparently he was living in an alternate reality, Argent smiled too.

Lydia stood up. Stiles took a side-step towards the door.

"I believe I instructed you not to disturb us."

Stiles grinned, "Technically you just said not to embarrass you." He shrugged his shoulder.

Lydia's lips turned up in a cruel smile, "Your existence is embarrassing." He just shrugged again. Lydia rolled her eyes and gestured to Beefy, "This is Derek. Derek, I apologize in advance for my lame-ass stepbrother."

Derek. Derek. Stiles filtered through his head for a Derek. Nothing was coming up, except… "Derek Hale?" His voice squeaked, "Cora's brother?"

Beefy nodded. Oh god. Forget that Lydia was hanging out with a senior – and seriously, did Jackson know about this? - she was only one degree of separation away from his worst nightmare.

Stiles groaned, head against the door, "It's happening… The Unholy Alliance." Lydia's shriek was enough warning that Stiles got outside and closed the door before something banged against the door.

-.-.-

Despite his fears the Unholy Alliance of the Mean Girls did not occur. And based on the conversations he was eavesdropping on - Derek and Lydia had been friends since they were kids. Derek had just gotten back from visiting his older sister in New York.

How a beefcake who played lacrosse and wrestled had anything in common with the future world dominator? This, Stiles did not know, but he had some theories.

"Are you and Beefy in some sort of arranged marriage deal?"

Lydia looked up from her desk and, well, she didn't glare. Actually, she looked confused.

Oh, right. "Derek." Now she was glaring.

"No!" Lydia was Officially Offended. Never a good thing.

Stiles quirked an eyebrow, "Not sleeping together?"

Lydia's face was almost as red as her hair. It was great.

"No, ok, that wasn't my favorite theory anyway," he quirked an eyebrow, "Is he like, the big brother friend who threatens Jackson when he gets too handsy?"

Her outrage dissipated slightly and she stood, a smirk growing on her face, "Why do you care?"

She stepped closer and Stiles didn't budge from the doorway. He had an idea what she was implying. She'd made more than a few references to his bisexuality when their parents weren't around.

"Do you like Derek?" Her eyebrow quirked, mirroring his face, "Isn't he a little out of your league?"

Stiles shrugged, "Just curious." He smirked down at Lydia - she wasn't wearing heels for once! - and took a step in to her room, "Wouldn't want my sister being taken advantage of."

And the scowl was back. A shove and a door slam were her next, cliché, reactions. Seriously, if she didn't like being his stepsister she could do with acting less like one.

"If you think that's going to work," Stiles yelled though the door, "You're watching the wrong kind of television!"

He turned around, smug, and then ran directly into Natalie. He stumbled back, catching himself on the wall beside Lydia's door.

"Heeey, Natalie," Stiles rubbed his head under Natalie's raised eyebrow, "How's it going?"

She looked at him, looked at Lydia's door, looked back at him. The other eyebrow joined the first.

"Just, uh…" Stiles swallowed, "Sibling bonding."

Natalie's lip quirked up on one side, "The wrong television?"

Stiles gestured at the closed door, "According to proper sitcom canon, the best way to get your sibling to do what you don't want them to do is to antagonize and then ignore."

"So, slamming the door eggs you on?" Natalie smiled, "What would be the proper way to make you behave?"

Stiles wrinkled his nose, "Forced affection. Effective bonding." And then, "More specifically, bowling."

"So a family bowling night will make you two get along?"

Sirens were going off in his head as Natalie turned to walk away. He gestured wildly, hands in front of him moving erratically, "No! No. No, no, no. Not what I meant!"

"Too late!" Natalie was cackling. Definitely cackling.

Stiles groaned, "Shit." Lydia's door popped open.

"Are you always this stupid?" And then it slammed shut again.

Yeah. He was.

And it was very annoying!

-.-.-

"Bowling?" Scott was laughing at him, practically doubled over as they walked into the school. Stiles glared at him.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles knocked his shoulder, "Laugh it up, but dad said we could each bring a friend."

The laughter abruptly stopped, "What?" Stiles grinned. Allison Argent was Lydia's newly minted BFF this semester - and Scott was now bright red at the possibility.

"Don't hurt yourself," Stiles chuckled as Scott froze in the middle of the hallway. Stiles grabbed his sweatshirt and dragged his best friend closer to the lockers.

Scott stared at Stiles, "But…I can't even walk in a straight line when she's around!"

"And I can't be in the same room as the she-devil for a long period of time without going insane," Stiles barked back, "We all have to adjust to the new order of things."

Scott gave him a bland look and then banged his head against the locker.

"I cannot believe you got us roped into bowling!" Lydia appeared behind Stiles, making both him and Scott jump about two feet. "I had plans on Friday!"

"So did I," Stiles grumbles as the entire hallway paused to watch their argument. Why couldn't Lydia just ignore him like she had for the bajillion years before the wedding?

Lydia rolled her eyes, "Whatever weird crap you were going to do while holed up in your room does not count!"

"And making out with Jackson after watching The Notebook for the Thousandth! Time! does?" Stiles was fairly positive he just agreed with Jackson about something and he instantly felt dirty.

There was a huff, a foot stomp, and then a dramatic turn - complete with hair flip!

Sitcom Stiles was apparently produced by Disney.

"You want me to come with you...to deal with that?" Scott looked a little pale when Stiles turned back around.

Stiles shrugged, "Bring your inhaler."

-.-.-

Scott's balance lucked out. Allison didn't come. Derek did.

"Who is the hulk?" Scott whispered as Natalie hugged Derek. She was all excited to see him so obviously his intelligence had been correct about the long friendship.

Stiles bowed his head closer, "That's Beefy." Scott nodded, understanding immediately.

"My name is Derek," Beefy called over to them. Hair pristinely gelled, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Scott stammered out an apology. Stiles shrugged.

"Beefy is an accurate descriptor word."

Lydia face palmed. Natalie raised eyebrow at her husband, he shrugged.

"Be nice, Stiles."

Stiles gaped, "Beefy is a compliment!" Scott was officially dying of laughter next to him, laughter that he was trying so hard to suppress. Derek was even grinning now, eyes crinkled.

Ha! Take that Lydia! Stiles was hilarious.

"Why don't we just call everyone by their first names tonight?" Natalie offered with a grin, which Stiles knew was aimed just as much as Lydia. She stilled called his dad Sheriff.

It was met with a chorus of denials!

"No." Dad.  
"Hell no." Lydia.  
"Please no." Scott.

Stiles shrugged, "I mean, if you can pronounce it."

Natalie sighed, "You people are impossible."

"But we're impossible," Stiles raised a finger, "Together!" And he drew a heart.

Beefy grinned again.

The game started - with his dad taking a massive lead right out of the gate. Stiles was just aiming for not ALL gutter balls.

Stiles leaned back in his chair as Derek took up his ball. The view from behind was, if even possible, better than the front. Who wore tight jeans to bowl? Derek Hale apparently.

Serious ass cupping was occurring and Stiles was definitely filing the picture away for later use. Scott elbowed him and he sat back up before anyone caught him ogling.

"So," Derek took Scott's seat when he got up to bowl, "What is your first name?"

Stiles smirked, "I'm afraid that's classified, Beefy. You don't have the clearance." Derek laughed.

It was a nice laugh - deep, rich, a nice baritone sound to it. Stiles felt his stomach lurch. Over Derek's shoulder he noticed Lydia watching them. Smirking.

Oh. Technical foul! This had to be a violation of some sort of stepsibling rule. Using your friend as a weapon was just wrong!

"You're up, sis!" Stiles grinned at her as Scott came back over. Her face fell into a scowl immediately.

Stiles grinned. Small victories were the most satisfying.

"Dude," Scott nudged his shoulder as he sat on the back of his chair, "If she stabs you in your sleep, I'm not helping you."

"My big sis would never hurt me!"

Stiles enjoyed the way Lydia's hand twitched. Her ball skimmed the side of the pins, taking down only three of them. When she turned around to glare at him Stiles only grinned.

"Stiles," his dad warned. Stiles grumbled, but kept his mouth shut while she bowled a spare. By the end of the night she was in first place. A total sitcom moment that involved much gloating and the stealing of his snack bar nachos.

Derek stopped him outside the bowling alley. Stiles raised an eyebrow at the hand on his shoulder, "What's up Beefy?"

"I know Lydia and you don't get along," Derek pressed a hand over Stiles mouth, "But she's secretly awesome underneath the Mean Girl exterior. And she doesn't hate you nearly as much as she pretends to."

Derek waved goodbye to everyone then, as if he hadn't just been manhandling Stiles, and walked towards his obnoxiously nice sports car.

Stiles and Lydia avoided eye contact on the way home. Natalie chatted happily up front about a successful family outing.

Well, technically, no one was stabbed with a fork this time, so success was relative.

-.-.-

"Alright," Stiles knocked on Lydia's door, waiting. It was her birthday after all, he was attempting to be…nice…er.

She opened her door with rollers in her hair and a shiny robe tied at her waist, "What do you want?"

"I figure I'd give you your gift," Stiles glanced down either side of the hallways, "Without witnesses."

Lydia nodded, "No need to give them false hope." She let him in.

He placed the small package, wrapped with newspaper and string, on her desk and then stood in the center of the room. Touching nothing.

There was makeup and hair stuff and a fancy shimmering dress hung up on the wall. Stiles had never felt so out of place as he did in Lydia's room. And he lived in her mother's house.

"Thank you," Lydia said stiffly as she started to open the present. She breathed a shaky breath when she finished unwrapping it, "Thank you."

It was a book on female scientists and a voucher for a chemistry supply store. The clerk on the phone had found his request weird, but Stiles was very convincing.  
Lydia turned to face him, her eyes shimmering with tears and a giant smile on her face, "This is… Thank you."

Stiles swallowed. He hadn't quite expected such a response. He'd been living here almost six months, it wasn't hard to figure out her interests.

"Well, uh…" He rubbed his head and made a move for the door.

"Derek's coming to the party tonight," Lydia offered after clearing her throat. Still smiling, "You should talk to him."

Stiles laughed, "Uh, I was planning on spending the night at Scott's. Wiping the floor with him at Mario Cart."

Lydia folded her arms, her hip jutted out, and her lips puckered out, "You're coming to my party."

"That sounds more like an order than an invitation."

"That's because it was an order," Lydia grinned, her hands moving to her hip. Stiles inched towards the door.

Her eyes narrowed on him. He froze.

Her hand waved in front of her, "You can even bring Scott so long as he doesn't creep on Allison the whole time."

"Okay?" Stiles shrugged, sighing in defeat. Lydia smiled again and then shooed him from the room.

-.-.-

The party was everything TV movies had promised a popular party would be. There was music, dancing, and underage drinking. Dad had taken Lydia's mother to dinner and the living room was covered in streamers.

Decorations and food had been provided by the best money could buy. The alcohol was whatever rich kids could get their hands on. Which was a much higher quality than Stiles or Scott was use to.

"There's vodka," Scott watched one kid passed by them with a Grey Goose in hand, "Who are these people?"

"The product of me-generation parenting."

Scott and Stiles looked to the left of their corner-based observation post. Cora Hale was leaning against the wall, a Kiltlifter at her lips.

"Are we about to die?" Scott whispered into Stiles' ear. Cora didn't even blink.

Stiles swallowed, "Nice observation. Why are you over here rather than…" He jerked his head towards the dance floor where Lydia, Jackson, and the rest of the 'It' crowd were gyrating to the Top 40.

"Not my crowd," Cora took another swig and gestured towards the stairs, "Plus, partying is less fun when its big brother approved."

Derek Hale was leaning against the railing on the second floor, chatting with a few of the older guys from the lacrosse team. Watching the party with clear eyes. He hadn't drank a thing.

Stiles had been watching. Mostly his chest - tight t-shirt, party of one, thank you. His pecks were cupped in that spandex almost as well as his ass was in denim, not to mention the abs. Dude was shredded and Stiles appreciated the view.

"So, how many kids do you think your brother will have to take home tonight?" Stiles turned to grin at Cora. She grunted and pushed off from the wall. Her brother's Designated Driver status apparently not up for grabs.

Ok. Conversation over then!

"Talked to Cora Hale," Stiles smacked his lips together, "Didn't die." He smacked Scott on the back, "I'd say that's a good night."

Scott rolled his eyes, "You have weird goals, dude." This was true. And one of those goals was currently laughing, eyes crinkling and shirt ridding up as he doubled over the railing.

Derek Hale was truly a gift to all male-body-aficionados.

"I'll be back," Stiles rolled his shoulders back before grinning at Scott. Scott shook his head, but said nothing as Stiles walked towards the stairs. Derek met him at the top, a smirk on his face. "How's it going, beefy?"

The smirk on Derek's face widened. Stiles squinted at him, suspicious.

"What?"

"Mieczyslaw." Derek pronounced it…fairly close to right.

Stiles would have been impressed if he weren't so shocked.

"Gesundheit." Stiles kept his eyes narrowed even as Derek laughed.

Derek stood up straight, pushing off from the railing, "Come on, I was close right?"

"Eh," Stiles shrugged, "No clue what you're talking about." He looked off to the side, enjoying the buzzy feeling that came over him at Derek's gaze.

"Right," Derek chuckled, "Classified." He took a step closer. Stiles bit his lip at the movement.

"Not a horrible attempt though," Stiles grinned, meeting his gaze, "Who's your source?"

The shift to lean back against the railing has a wonderful effect on the pull of Derek's shirt. Very pleasant. Stiles appreciated it for sure. He did not appreciate being knocked by some rando coming up the stairs.

At least not as he stumbled forward. The whole Derek catching him thing? That was okay.

"And here I thought you were only klutzy on the field." Derek grinned as he tugged Stiles up, causing said klutziness to kick in and send Stiles hurtling directly into his chest. A very yummy chest, but still!

Stiles grimaced as he jumped back, rubbing at his head, "Right. Sorry." Stiles chuckled, a little more hysterically than intended. Derek smiled.

"I kind of like you klutzy," Derek's eyebrows raised and then he walked backwards. His smile turned into a grin as his nodded his head backwards.

Did someone flip the script on the sitcom? Was he in a romcom now? He did not approve that change! Though…he was cool with playing along.

It was, sadly, a PG-13 romcom because he followed Derek away from the party, but not into a bedroom. The internet had warned him life wasn't like a porno. Damn, reality.

"I heard you gave Lydia the, and I quote, best birthday present ever," Derek was standing very close to him. Stiles swallowed, because you know, proximity to hot guy does not negate the mentioning of awkward topics.

Stiles shrugged, "I plead the fifth." Derek kept smiling – which was nice, but also unnerving as he kept shifting closer. Millimeter by millimeter. Stiles was tempted to check for pigs blood at this point.

"You and Lydia are made to be siblings," Derek shook his head, officially deep into the personal bubble. Without permission! Stiles was about to refute the insult, when Derek kisses him. A soft, quick press of lips. And then Derek was back to smiling, "You're both stubbornly hiding hearts of gold."

Derek stepped back then, eyes sparkling. He was biting his lip. Stiles was fairly positive he should say something at this point. Like, anything. But he just stood there.

"See ya around, Mischief."

And now Stiles was dead. He was alive. But he was dead. This was some weird ass mix of heaven and hell. He had no proof, except for the everything about what just happened!

Somewhere, out of nowhere – or the depths of hell, if his theory was right – Lydia appeared. Smirking.

"Don't screw it up, loser. I don't let just anyone date my best friend."

Wait…what?

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Reviews Appreciated!


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